DADA for Beginners || Barty & Daisy
The old professor in Barty’s Ancient Runes class droned on longer than normal, extending past his usual “Just 10 more minutes of your time, students!” stunt he usually pulled. His droning voice added to haze of heat in the stuffy room, pulling the boy’s eyelids down with otherworldly gravitational force. By 20 past, Barty was beyond even pretending to pay attention anymore, angrily tapping his expensive shoes on the ground and glaring up at the teacher. He finally lost his temper at 25 past the hour, when the professor pleaded for just another “10 more minutes of their time” to learn about a symbol he’d mastered ages ago.
Packing up his books and bag with a quick flick of his wand, he stood up and stormed out of the room, glaring poisonously at the professor as he walked past, daring him to say one word. The professor, for his own part, had the grace to look sheepish and even cowered slightly from the Slytherin’s gaze for a second before stammering back to the class and starting up on his rambling again.
Once out of the classroom, Barty checked his watch irritably and began his trek to the library. It was bad enough he had to tutor an idiot 6th year in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but it didn’t help that he was now going to be late. To the meeting time he’d set. Groaning in frustration, the boy pushed his hair back from where it flew into his face as he flew down the stairs in record time, pushing his bag behind him and booking it to his destination.
He reached the library at 35 past, out of breath from the run but not as late as he’d feared. Walking over to a table, Barty sat down and started rummaging in his bag, pulling out an old DADA book the professor had given to him for this exact purpose, a N.E.W.T level book that was dog-eared on the problem spots for this particular student. In all honesty, that same professor hadn’t given him much of a choice when he pushed the book at the younger Crouch, growling out that it was tutoring or 3 straight months of detention for skipping his class every week. Faced with making cauldronfuls of Doxy bite antidote for the First Years or helping a fellow student, Barty had picked up the book with no small degree of grumbling and walked out to the tune of the professor cheerfully telling him he’d even let Barty choose when and where he would be giving lessons.
And so, against his better judgement, he’d ended up in the library waiting for what was probably going to be the most boring part of his day, Study of Ancient Runes notwithstanding.